


Touch

by ChromaMode



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Tyrell is highkey Soft And Gay™ for Elliot, tyrelliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaMode/pseuds/ChromaMode
Summary: Basically, Tyrell masturbates to the thought of Elliot.





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Chopping wood = the act of a male masturbating his morning wood. Raise your hand if you think Tyrell crysturbated every morning and night over Elliot for 8 months in that cabin. Honestly tho all that aggressive wood-chopping was such a massive sexual metaphor for Tyrell jerking off :')

Tyrell woke as he felt the faint, warming rays of early morning sun on his eyelids.

It was the fifth day.

Tyrell groaned, not particularly happy with the current situation but determined to get himself out of this mess as quickly as possible. He was doing all of this for Elliot and there wasn’t a second to lose.

Elliot.

Tyrell smiled at himself. Pathetic. It had taken him less than one minute after waking up to think about the man, one fucking minute, and now his thoughts were swirling inside his head. Tyrell’s breathing made an unwanted, erratic jump. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to go where it wanted.

Just the mere image of Elliot standing in front of him, right there in the room, casually leaning against the wall while observing Tyrell with something akin to a sheepish smile, was enough to intrigue Tyrell’s already half-keen morning wood, which he had been trying to ignore up until now. For an erotic fantasy it was all but wild, it was tame and innocent, but Tyrell felt a familiar warmness spread down his stomach all the same, bright and hot and rapid like wildfire.

And that was all it took.

“Elliot...”

Tyrell had unconsciously started to palm himself through his boxers, chest heaving heavier with every passing second as he breathed through his nostrils. Shuddering with every touch, he reached down and took himself in hand, suddenly moving with haste, no, desperation.

Tyrell had masturbated to the thought of Elliot many times, more times than he could count, and never lasting longer than a tenfold of strokes because he was always way too riled up.

“E-Elliot...”

Tyrell’s whine traveled through the empty room and seemed to reverberate off of the walls. He was leaking over himself at this point, his toes curled at the sheets as he stroked himself faster, a weak, shivering “fuck” mewled under his breath. He let his imagination run wild and pictured Elliot above him, beautiful and smiling before he reached down to kiss Tyrell’s lips, licking into his mouth as he placed his own hands on Tyrell's.

Setting a fast and hard pace, the added warmth and pressure of Elliot's hands was maddening. Tyrell whined against Elliot's mouth, squirming from pleasure as his knees knocked together. Wanting more, Tyrell arched into the touch, Elliot humming contentedly into the kiss as he rewarded Tyrell with a much more tight grip, causing Tyrell's moans to drastically increase in volume, which were — loud. Tyrell almost sobbed as he felt his entire body tense, felt his hips jerk and eyelids flutter, flushing at the obscene, squelching noises that filled the room.

“F-fuck...”

Tyrell’s voice was a mere plea, his thighs trembled as he fucked up into the slick grip around himself. He was achingly hard, and so close he felt tears burning the corners of his eyes. He burrowed his face in the pillow, panting desperately as he ran ghost-light fingertips over his cock, swiping his thumb over the dripping head.

God, he missed him so much. He wanted him here by his side, wanted to love and worship him like a shrine. He _wanted._

Fantasy-Elliot puffed, apparently amused at how responsive Tyrell was, before he slid his tongue across Tyrell’s bottom lip, going back and forth until he drove the man under him even more insane than he already was.

“Want you to come,” Elliot sighed, arousal thick in his voice, and Tyrell fucking lost it.

He came with a muffled, drawn-out moan, biting hard into the knuckles of his hand as ropes of cum stained his stomach. Riding out the last of his orgasm, a string of Swedish obscenities left his parted lips before he fell back in the midst of rumpled sheets, Elliot’s words still ringing in his ears.


End file.
